


Exiled Heathens

by VanishedGalaxy



Series: Breathe for me [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Gangs, Gangsters, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:26:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VanishedGalaxy/pseuds/VanishedGalaxy
Summary: Jongin was never in his right mind. But neither was Kyungsoo.And in their lives, it was okay.-Jongin and Chanyeol’s hatred of each other goes years back. But when Kyungsoo is put in the middle like some sort of a price, Jongin has to re-think what he’s been doing.





	1. Underground Rats

**Author's Note:**

> 5 parts  
> 2-3 chapters each  
> one breathtaking story
> 
> 2nd instalment of 'Breathe for me' series

Have you heard of them?

The rats of Seoul?

They walk on two legs, move between humans and live right down your neighborhood. They can speak, they are handsome, young and powerful, and they also know that no one is there to threaten them. Police is afraid of them, and no one is important or stupid enough to challenge them.

They live amongst the citizens, and probably forget that all they are, are a bunch of illegals.

So, have you heard of the rats?

Probably not, because they live underground.

$$$

It’s intoxicating, the smell of money.

He has so much already, but there’s always a part of him asking for more. Even if his bank account is already over-flowing with digits.

The room is red velvet and black, a huge gambling table with green felt placed in the middle of it. Around it sit familiar faces Jongin has been following for a while already. He’s holding on his own share of cards as he glances over them and across, where the richest man sat. Feminine figures catch his attention as one of the women dressed in white lingerie offers him another drink of expensive taste. They are wearing little clothing, advertizing their bodies as instructed by their pimps. But Jongin’s not here for pussy, he’s here for something much more important. And it’s not like he’d end up in here with any of them if he was in need of affection. His standards are pretty high for a man of his kind.

He takes a glance around the table before he throws his cards on the table, standing up from his seat. With a quick move, he’s already brought his gun out and is pointing at the man across, whilst eyeing his two side-kicks. On cue, Minseok and Jongdae stand up to reveal their guns as well. The business man—and his target—raises his hands up in surrender and the other two follow suit. By now, some women have already screamed in terror, running away from the scene and from any possible bullets.

“I’m bored. I don’t think you’d mind me taking what’s mine,” Jongin smirked, moving the gun a bit as if to tell them to hurry. “Empty your pockets.” Minseok and Jongdae are fast to grab the packs of money from the table and throw them in nylon bags. Jongin circles the man his eyes are locked with, his gun lowering just enough for him to caress his neck with the barrel. He moves like a stealthy panther, its eyes digging into potential prey. “I know we had something between us, but sorry,” Jongin then grins, no emotion reaching his eyes and the man gulps in fear. “You’re not my style.”

A gunshot echoes and Jongdae loses all color from his face. “Kai, we said no killing.”

Jongin’s eyes rise from the corpse and lock with Jongdae, “oops.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Minseok motions fast, already by the door and ready to escape.

“If Chanyeol asks for me, tell him I’m busy, okay?” Jongin winks at the other two frozen and shocked men.

“Kai, that was completely unnecessary,” Jongdae scolds him as soon as they are jogging down the corridor, Jongin the only relaxed of the trio.

“You know I love seeing Chanyeol foam from anger.”

“Lay’s waiting at the back.”

With Minseok’s announcement, they let the topic die, and as they pass the front and hear men yell at them to stop, Jongin plainly shoots one of them in the thigh.

He’s too tired of every single one of them.

And more so, of Chanyeol.

It kept his day interesting, though, like nothing else. So he couldn’t afford losing his only source of entertainment.

$$$

Jongin has been like this for as long as he can remember. He has faint memories of a broken, tainted family. His parents, being only a young couple with an unplanned pregnancy and no money for abortion, took a road down south at the news of the awaited child. His mother tried to force a stop to it all, but against her wishes, Jongin was born as healthy as ever. It was years later that his parents divorced, a summer shy before he got into high school. So under the whole neglect, hatred, abuse, hurt, he was suspended soon enough, and has been living a life in exile since.

He can still remember how his mother would come back with a different man each week, introduce him as his new father, only to replace him a couple days later. The apartment stunk of booze and drugs, and they could barely afford the thing what with only Jongin actually having a stable enough job at some local petrol station.

Jongin was fast to learn how to ignore her and her problems.

Everything as he knew fell down the drain one night when he was barely nineteen. He was coming back home from work when he appeared to be at the wrong time and at the wrong place. And from then on, the underground sucked him in, because he’d witnessed a murder and the only way to stay alive, was to obey the murderers. But he liked them. In a sense, he idolized their will to survive, and they also accepted him in because he was obedient enough.

Fast forward to the twenty-nine year old Kim Jongin, and he’s an assassin with his own little cult.

He, Minseok, Jongdae and Yixing have been working together for a couple years already, each coming from a disaster of a home of their own. They’d built their own little underground kingdom where Jongin was treated as a rightful King, and the news of them appearing spread like fire. More people joined with the promise of wealth and fortune, exchanging their loyalty and soul for one seat below Jongin’s throne. And Jongin welcomed the peasants, fully aware that their lives would be in his hands and orders— both already so bloodied.

And amongst all the chaos, there was a fourth person.

Kyungsoo was a pearl buried deep in the soil, never actually taking part in any of the illegal matters, but always by Jongin’s side whenever he needed someone to lean on or to cover him. He was there, with a love so overwhelming that even if Jongin always took and never gave, he still stayed. Kyungsoo has been here for years already, so many that Jongin has forgotten when they met exactly. But it was alright.

He wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Jongin, the man who held the blood of countless men on his shoulders, would walk into a house of luxury, meeting a table full of food and a kiss on his cheek. Kyungsoo would leave him alone to eat in silence, removing himself from the scene so subtly and silently. He would come back only to clean after his meal but Jongin would need some company and Kyungsoo would just kiss his worries away. It was the same every day, having Kyungsoo wait for him and Jongin feeding on his love. Almost like a vampire, sucking the last and having no whatsoever regrets. Because Kyungsoo was there to please him, and neither had an objection to it.

At the beginning, Kyungsoo would tag along. Through the years, Jongin had taught him how to use all kinds of guns, knowing that he was in danger just for associating himself with Jongin. Kyungsoo never participated much in robberies. He would just keep an eye for any passerby’s, or walk along to cover Jongin’s back, or just be pretty. Whatever it was, Kyungsoo loved spending time with Jongin, even if their dates turned out to be assassinations or breaking into buildings.

It took a crazy person to love an insane one, and as long as Kyungsoo orbited around Jongin’s existence, he was losing his sanity too. Kyungsoo was there to please him, and Jongin would take it, because he thrived on the love yet made sure to show little in return. Kyungsoo was a man who could take some hard loving and would still come back for more, so Jongin left everything at minimum.

There are a lot of reasons why Jongin feels like a King, one whose power and influence has not yet been recognized as much as it should—but he’s getting there. His name wanders the severs as the ‘man who kills’, since paid assassination is what brought him here in the first place. And by closer people, those in his clan in particular, he’s known for his solid addiction to money and card games.

However it is, Jongin lives up to his name, and while everyone knows he’s batshit insane, they still look up to him for standing proud in front of a powerful mafia boss named Park Chanyeol.

$$$

Jongdae and Minseok climb into the van, hitting the door twice for Jongin who takes his sweet time looking around the street. Finally, as he climbs after the duo, men run out from the door that leads to the illegal poker hutch and Jongdae’s fast to shut the doors before any bullets find them, losing his footing just a bit because the van is kicked awake.

“Took you long enough,” Yixing glances through the rear mirror, eyes falling on Jongdae’s face, the man leaning against the back door of the van with a long sigh hanging from his lips. “Was the catch good?”

“Yes, but Jongin got out of plan again.”

“You make it sound like it’s bad,” Jongin groans as he leans his head on the nylon bag of money packs, the one Minseok brought in. Minseok just glances at him from where he sits, hugging his knees to his chest.

“Chanyeol will get angry, Jongin. You know this is a hutch he has shares at. He’ll be pissed if one of his wealthiest clients is found dead.”

“So what?” Jongin snorts. “Let him come. I’ve been waiting years for him to act, but he’s just another pussy that’s all talk and anger management problems.” Then, he looks up at Minseok, a smirk and a wink. “Don’t you trust me, baby?”

Jongdae makes a throaty sound of disgust as he sits down. “Seriously, Jongin. You have been messing with Chanyeol long enough. Don’t you think he might get revenge?”

“He’s too afraid to act. Otherwise, he would have done so a long time ago.”

Then, Jongin looks at the roof of the van, humming the tune of a song he’s heard Kyungsoo sing lately while showering.

$$$

The following day a man arrives at Jongin’s clan’s headquarters, the message he carries one from Chanyeol himself, speaking of big words and Jongin whistles at his threats. He gives the man a letter of a response and as he watches him walk off with his tail in between his legs, he tsks to himself.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I think it is,” Jongin glances at Jongdae before glaring at the back of the man who’d brought the letter to him. “Who knew Chanyeol finally grew a pair?” he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, laughing to himself. Then, as suddenly as the outburst ignites, it dies, and he turns to Jongdae with a serious face. “Gather a couple men to stand outside while we talk. Tell Minseok to keep them in the dark. In case Chanyeol has planned an ambush, I will have to have some backup. I want you here, though.”

Jongdae is left to stare at his back as he walks away, sighing into thin air. He has a bad feeling about this, but as much as he’s friends with Jongin, he can’t disobey his orders. So instead of pondering more about it, he heads straight to Minseok, knowing that tomorrow might as well be the beginning of a war.

Jongin comes home to cooked meat that evening and although his stomach growls angrily in hunger, he walks up to Kyungsoo and grabs onto his hair. He pulls him close, a small hiss falling off those plump lips Jongin has been fantasizing all day.

“Jongin,” a flash of unknown emotion flares up in Kyungsoo’s eyes and Jongin names it love. So he bites on the pale skin to earn more of those breaths in shape of his name, some gasps, some hot exhales. Jongin gets drunk just by the sound of Kyungsoo’s perfect voice.

“Tomorrow I want you at the headquarters,” he whispers into Kyungsoo’s ear. When he hears no response, his grip on the other’s hair tightens. “Understood?”

“Y-Yes,” comes right after and Jongin smirks.

“Some men will be there to keep you safe just in case, while I’m away.”

“What is happening?” Kyungsoo hisses as the grip tightens more but Jongin answers with a simple; “No questions”.

Jongin might never admit he wants to keep Kyungsoo safe, to protect him and promise him that everything will be alright. He’s not that kind of man, and Kyungsoo doesn’t need to hear anything he already knows. Kyungsoo’s there as an ornament, one to keep him company during some of the loneliest nights and craziest days. He’s there to pamper Jongin with love, for no exchange other than safety.

And Jongin’s there to take the last of Kyungsoo’s life.

A pretty fair agreement, if Jongin had to say so himself.

$$$

The silence around the warehouses is deafening but Jongin enjoys the eerie feeling. The atmosphere spells danger and warnings yet Jongin still strides ahead with a confidence only the leader of a gang would have. Always walking as if he owns the place, as if nothing scares him—which might as well be the case. That was the attitude of a dominant hellhound. He has never acted afraid and even if he lived in terror and a life-threatening lifestyle, he has forgotten what _scared_ means.

So he sports a smirk as soon as he kicks the metal door to the warehouse he, himself, instructed Chanyeol to come. He’s not afraid of making noise. His men are hiding around the block with orders to kill if this is an ambush, and if Jongin is gone, Chanyeol will have to pay for the anger his men will have directed at him, that and all those bullets. Jongin has nothing to lose—he never has. A lot think that that’s why he’s reached this rank since so young. He was always reckless, but also a lucky bastard, if his enemies should point out.

In the middle of the warehouse stands a chair and Jongin snorts. He’s being watched. Such a Chanyeol move, not showing up right away, always so mysterious for some reason.

“Chanyeol come out, come out, wherever you are,” Jongin sing songs with a grin but his eyes are checking each corner with subtle movements of his head. He’s being watched, he knows Chanyeol is around, but he also knows that it was wise of him to have backup because this smells wrong. “I don’t have all day, Chanyeol. Will you stay in the shadows or finally grow a pair and show your face?”

Jongin turns around slowly, knowing that sharp moves will do more bad than good and he finally hears footsteps. Heels hit the ground, clacks echoing across the empty building. At that, Jongin smirks, eyes making out the tall form of the man who’ve been his toy to anger for the past couple of years. Jongin has seen him only two times by now, both of them from a distance, but his appearance has been engraved in his mind since.

He’s a tall man, taller than him, with a muscular body. He sports dark brown hair, eyes always so piercing wherever they glance at. Masculine jaw line, sharp features, big ears and a simple sense of fashion. He always wears leather and street wear, something Jongin dislikes due to his love for suits. Jongin’s eyes first fall on the other’s hands, empty of weapons, but the suspicion doesn’t leave him.

“Came alone, Kai? Isn’t that reckless coming from a man who should know better?”

Jongin smirks, approaching the chair between them and with a swift move, he kicks it with force, it barely flying by Chanyeol’s legs. Immediately, he hears guns being put off safe and Jongin snorts.

“So much precaution to see an old friend…” he tsks, shaking his head. “I thought we had some trust between us, Channie.”

“You should have thought of that before you went on a killing spree in my territory, before you attacked one of my clients, before you broke havoc in my businesses.” Chanyeol’s voice is deep, Jongin almost sees why people obey him without even meaning to. He has this confidence and the orders spelt out in a deep, threatening tone that would work on anyone even remotively scared of dying. Jokes on him, though. Jongin’s not afraid of death.

Jongin fakes shock, bringing a hand to cover his mouth just the slightest. “I did that?”

“Jongin, I didn’t come here to speak nonsense. You either fix up your act or I will take measures I don’t have to. I can’t afford having a self-proclaimed gang mess around with mine. You either respect my territory, or we go to war.”

“Self-proclaimed?” Jongin repeats, humming to himself as he gazes around. The men should be hiding in the dark of the first floor, since there’s an open wide square connecting both floors. Even if Jongin can’t see the darkest corners, he knows he’s in plain sight for them. _Such a joke_. “If you kill me, though,” he muses, eyes digging into those shadows of the first floor. “who will play with you then?”

“Since I know you just want to mess with me, I would suggest you don’t. Otherwise, there _will_ be consequences.”

“As?” Jongin challenges and stares at him with a hint of a smirk.

“As your precious little boyfriend getting hurt.”

Jongin is amused and almost laughs. “I thought you would know me better than this after so many years, Chanyeol.”

“Alright,” then Chanyeol shows a smirk that sends a chill down Jongin’s back, suspicion rising more as he watches the taller man with slits for eyes. “Call me when you want him back.” Chanyeol winks once, and turns his back on Jongin.

“What?” Jongin barks, anger boiling at the other’s departure and he moves his hand to his holster but hears movement from above his head. _That dick…_ So he opts to run outside instead, his body in overdrive for reasons he doesn’t know. But he has a bad feeling about this, and as much as he tries, he makes little sense of it. However, what he has to do now is to head to headquarters, make sure that Chanyeol is only messing with his head.

He’s quick to jump into Yixing’s van and they take off, they’re speeding down the road while Jongin is making calls. He informs Minseok to leave the warehouses and return to headquarters. And then he also calls Jongdae, who doesn’t answer and it makes the pit in his stomach bigger as anxiety pools in it. But his face remains stoic for the sake of being a leader, his insides are burning in anger and worry.

“Is he not picking up?” Yixing asks from beside him, sending a short glance his way after Jongin gets no reply the third time he called Jongdae. “Do you think Chanyeol had something planned?”

Jongin only grits his jaws, the teeth threatening to go back in his gums from the force because Jongin is pissed off. He will not allow Chanyeol to mess with him. Jongin is supposed to mess with him. Chanyeol is not allowed to go past his defenses, into his own headquarters and take what he wants, kill who he doesn’t. At this point, Jongin has forgotten of faces, he just wants to go and find the building in one piece.

The breaks screech as Yixing pulls the van to an immediate stop in front of their headquarters and Jongin has already felt a bit relieved because the building doesn’t seem to have been affected, meaning it’s safe to enter. He shoots out from the van, running inside and his pace slows down as he sees the first body on the ground. Yixing’s questions die out somewhere behind him when he takes in the sight, too.

The whole room is a mess, stories of a gunshot fight taking place just before. Jongin kicks the unconscious body, finding a face he doesn’t recognize, so that makes him hope. As he and Yixing walk farther down the headquarters he starts finding his own men injured—and happy to see him—and some more dead bodies. Some of the hurt men start talking of what happened but it falls on deaf ears because Jongin’s mind is elsewhere.

They head to the huge storage room at the back, next to the indoor parking lot to find the heavy wooden door broken into and Jongin’s heart falls more. Stepping past it, his eyes fall on a body at his right, the back of Jongdae’s, and he walks up to it. His arms and legs are tied and he’s left there alone, the phone out of his reach. Whoever had come in here, didn’t want to kill him, considering he was still very alive and his gun a meter or so away.

“Jongin—“

“Where’s Kyungsoo?” The anger in his eyes makes Jongdae swallow thickly in anxiety.

“They came in, went through all men and headed straight in here. They didn’t want to kill anyone, they just wanted to take Kyungsoo.”

Although Jongin already knows the answer, he still breathes out a “who?” through gritted teeth.

“Chanyeol’s men.”

Yixing sends a worrisome glance at his leader, half-worried he would lose his control or anger, half-scared being the receiving end of either. But Jongin calms down shortly after and he kneels in front of Jongdae to cut off the zip ties. Yixing can see how Jongdae is side-eyeing him too but the burst they were waiting never comes. Instead, Jongin stands proud and sighs tiredly.

“Clean everything up and take care of the injured. I’m leaving.”

“What about Kyungsoo?” Yixing asks his turned back and notices a slight falter in his steps.

“Let Chanyeol have him. Soon, he’ll be asking for something and he’ll never have it.” A small pause, more for himself rather than anyone else. “And I’m not giving in any of his requests.”


	2. Pain-fuled Machine

Jongin is pissed off.

Very much so.

The dummies take most of the damage, some unfortunate people the rest. Jongdae feels like the Jongin from five years ago is back. The monstrous, out of control beast Jongin has been hiding in him since he was bailed from that asylum. It’s been a long while since then, but he can’t stop seeing flickers of that inhumane robot being revived back to life.

Do Kyungsoo, the name of the man who helped him escape.

Jongdae can see it hurts Jongin more and more as the days pass and he paints his hands in blood, alcohol and drugs. So many magazines are gone, along with so much sanity. He is witnessing his leader break apart while standing on the side, unable to help or save him. He’s slowly dying but never admitting. Jongdae can see he is just trying to ignore everything and go back to a routine he’s learned to hate. But he’s not succeeding, and that’s what makes Jongin’s attitude even worse.

A constant paradox.

Park Chanyeol’s letters were late, they came seven days after the kidnapping, speaking of threats Jongin laughed off. And then went on a killing spree. The letter was long forgotten in a drawer and despite Jongdae asking him about it, it was still passed by his leader. It spoke of requests Jongin never agreed on. It was mind-wrecking, the ticking of that invisible clock which counted Kyungsoo’s days—days of him staying alive and in one piece.

It was so damn loud, but Jongin just refused to listen.

The second letter came with another request. Jongdae wouldn’t know if he hadn’t found it by accident on Jongin’s heavy desk. It looked as well as new, so he opened it himself since Jongin flat-out ignored him when he presented it to him. The clock was ticking louder and louder and soon, two weeks had passed and a third letter had yet to arrive.

Jongdae was skittish—Minseok noticed and also commented on it.

“If Jongin doesn’t care, why do you bother?”

Jongdae didn’t know, truth be told. He hated Jongin most of the time. For his actions, his decisions, his ordering everyone around, his stupid proudness and entitlement. His recklessness and insanity that would hurt anyone standing in a kilometer radius around him. But he hated seeing him wither to slow death. The man took ill decisions and it wasn’t just a couple times he and Minseok had picked him up wasted and baked, to take him to a hotel because he _didn’t want to see his apartment empty_.

The man was in pain, broken and dying off this world despite trying to hide it with an overused façade. But after everything they’d been through, Jongdae knew it was unfair to see his leader and the small empire they’d built over the years crumble down. So he opts to remind Minseok that without him, and the link he, Minseok and Yixing have to him, they are nothing but exiled heathens.

“Because we’ll go down if _he_ goes down.”

$$$

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it, Mr. Kim?”

The twenty-two year old brunet glances at the man sitting at the table. The whole room is bright white, almost blindingly pure. There’s a small bed at one side of the room, made of light blue metal and sheets of white, blankets of white. The nightstand—painted white wood. The floor—white mosaic. A small table placed in the middle of it, two metallic chairs to match it at either of the long sides. The sitting brunet is wearing whites. His skin makes a nice contrast with the clothing, one shade too dark yet still sickeningly pale. No doubt caused by the days he hasn’t seen the sun. His hair a memory of the blond shade he came in with, the majority turning black after months of not being dyed.

The straitjacket, white, too.

Kyungsoo moves to sit at the other end, his white coat waving behind each step he makes and a file held in one hand. He places himself opposite of the blond and his wide eyes take in the high, cloudy stare of the other’s. He’s an interesting man to say the least. Kyungsoo has been feeding this fondness of the male quite some time now. Sometimes he’s like this, too deep in his thoughts, too drugged to pay attention to Kyungsoo and his questions. Too _gone_ to care. But some other times, he’s a charming, deceptive man. One who knows how to speak and what to say, exactly in the right pattern to make others hang from his words. Do his requests.

 _That should be the influence of a crazy criminal_ —Kyungsoo assumes.

He doesn’t seem to pay attention to Kyungsoo, so he clears his throat in an attempt of catching it. But it doesn’t either, so he speaks up instead.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” Kyungsoo starts, a small tremble at the back of his throat. “How are you feeling today?”

It takes a while but the brunet snaps out of his thoughts, staring back with brown eyes so piercing Kyungsoo feels enough self-conscious to look away from him.

“Could be better.” Kim moves in his seat, taking a look around the room as Kyungsoo scribbles some notes on the first file. He feels movement and looks up only to find the patient leaning over the table, some sort of fascination flashing over those dark eyes and a smirk playing on his thick lips.

 “Are you going to ask me if I need something?”

Kyungsoo laughs it off, correcting his glasses on his nose with a shy gesture. These visits have always been strange, but it always makes Kyungsoo like them more with each passing day. There’s something pulling him towards this man that makes him look forward to start working each morning. “Routine is routine, Mr. Kim.” He doesn’t get an answer, though, so he just probes “Is there anything you need?”

“In fact, there is.” Kyungsoo watches as the blond leans even closer, glancing around as if he’s about to tell him a secret. Then a grin etches on his face, one that doesn’t exactly touch his eyes. “Bring me a phone.”

“A-A phone?” Kyungsoo echoes and the blonde grins even wider and tilts his head just the slightest. “That’s prohibited, I can’t.”

“That’s a shame,” Kim leans back, a sad look on his face as he looks away. “I thought with you being my doctor, you’d care about my simple request.”

“I do care!” comes Kyungsoo’s fast reply and he cowers a bit from embarrassment. Kim is now staring at him with eyes of interest. “I mean, as your doctor, I will do anything to make your stay slightly better.”

Kim then grins, leaning towards him for the second time. His eyes hold Kyungsoo’s gaze and the latter can’t find it in himself to look away. He’s absorbed into the abyss his patient’s mind is in, and he can’t see the way out.

“Then _bring me a phone_.”

Kyungsoo knows he’s not in his right mind. Maybe it’s the excitement, or the interest. Maybe it’s that same fondness he has towards his patient. Maybe the promise of something new and different, more fun than his mundane routine. Maybe it’s the attraction towards the danger Kim is emitting in each breath he takes. Whatever it actually is, Kyungsoo doesn’t think twice before disobeying rules. But he sneaks in that cell-phone anyways and he’s present while Kim dials a number and talks.

“Hey,” Kim’s eyes flash at Kyungsoo standing in front of him, a smirk hanging from his lips as he speaks into the device. “How much longer are you going to let me be in here?”

Kyungsoo shouldn’t, but is still surprised when the alarm goes off and minutes after the door to Kim’s room is kicked open while he’s doing his regular visit and checkup. They are all wearing black, armed and with masks covering their faces. Kyungsoo almost falls off his chair from fear but Kim only huffs as he glares at the trio at the broken door.

“Took you long enough, _Chennie_ ~” His expression is sour as one of the men approach and with a fast passing of his knife, cuts his straitjacket in half. Kim only stretches his arms over his head, breathing in calmly.

“You’ll be surprised with what you’ll find at the headquarters.” He hands Kim two pistols and Kim gazes at them with something akin to love—as much as Kyungsoo can see. Which is more than worrisome. But Kyungsoo reminds himself that the man standing in front of him has murdered at least two people—those he was arrested for.

“Let’s go get Lay and we’re out.”

The breath hitches in Kyungsoo’s throat and before he can register anything, he jerks up. The movement is enough for the two men at the door to point their guns on him in suspicion.

“Take me with you,” Kyungsoo voices so lowly, so softly. His whisper, though reaches Kim and the man looks at him with a raised eyebrow. It takes a lot of courage on Kyungsoo’s part to look away from the guns’ barrels and almost but beg Kim. “Take me with you,” he repeats slightly louder and Kim stares at him, unfazed.

Then, a silent smirk etches at his lips and he approaches the doctor, sinful eyes looking on a bland, white canvas. So boring, so pure and stain-less. And he finds it attractive, so appealing, the thought of painting that same white canvas pure black, with nothing but his demonic insides. There’s a big part of him that wants to take that innocence, crush it and corrupt it so much there’ll be no return.  No remorse, no escape. With absolutely no mercy on his part.

“Kai?” asks the man standing by his side, but the sinister smile on his face has successfully caught the fly in his web.

It’s only a countdown from now on, when the venom will be administered.

“Where would I go without my precious doctor?”

$$$

Kyungsoo feels like a fool.

He wakes up to bright lights hanging low over his head and it momentarily blinds him. But his clothes are sticky from being drenched so he is wide awake now. He doesn’t remember much since the moment men came hurdling in through the door to help his patient escape the asylum. Everything is foggy and then blacks out seconds after he asks Kim to take him with. Which lead him to wake up on this table, facing white lights and a man standing by his side with a bucket in his hands.

He tries to move and sit up but he’s bandaged down on the furniture and it only makes him panic. There’re leather straps around his limps, chest and legs. Tied well enough to restrict his movement so much that he can’t even slip on the table’s metal surface. He’s still wearing the whites and his clothes from the institute, and the realization of being kidnapped settles so fast he fights against the straps with more force.

“Now, now, we’re not finished yet,” the callous tone freezes Kyungsoo, and it’s not so much the merciless intention behind the words, but because it sounded so damn familiar yet so foreign at the same time.  Hands are placed on his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks as the face of non other than Kim Jongin, the patient he was assigned almost two years ago, comes to view.

“Don’t you want to come with me?” There’s a hint of lust in his eyes that makes Kyungsoo’s throat go dry. His hands let go of his face but before he can feel any disappointment, they come back, with a leather strap this time. Kim forces it in his mouth, keeping his jaws apart and the leather digging into his skin enough to leave him unable to voice anything but muffled sounds.

“Calm down,” Kim whispers when he sees the panic in Kyungsoo’s eyes. “It’s not going to take long. After this, you’ll be a changed man.”

The man disappears and tears form in Kyungsoo’s eyes when he comes back, holding onto those two plates he knew all too well during Kim’s stay at the asylum.

“You’ll feel better, Kyungie. This will fix everything, Kyungie. It’ll be much better, Kyungie. Everything will be alright, Kyungie. _Don’t worry, Kyungie_.”

With every chant, his name sounds more sinister and Kyungsoo gulps in fear because those were the phrases he told Kim during one of the many therapies. The ones Kim would always come back as a different man, more cautious, less sane, so lost. He would always come back more disoriented than before. And Kyungsoo knew it didn’t work. But he had to keep guiding Kim back into that room under orders.

However, he never knew what exactly happened in Kim’s brain after each session. He only saw the outside shell that would crack and break more each time. Leaving him to pick up the pieces and try to stick back the solid ones.

Kyungsoo, however, had grown attached to the lost child that’d look back at him every time Kim stepped out of that room. He would be so lost, so weak, and Kyungsoo would help him back into his room because he couldn’t remember the location. Or where he was, or who he was. For hours on end, each time. But Kyungsoo enjoyed telling him all those small details about himself and slowly shape him into a better Jongin, because Kyungsoo only mentioned the good parts.

Slowly, so slowly, shaping Kim Jongin into a man much different than the one he’d been dragged in as through the front doors years ago.

And Kyungsoo feels scared now, as if those memories are threatened and he hangs on them tightly as those electric plates approach his temples. He can hear the sheer electrons  that zap by his ears and although terror swallows him whole in fear of what will happen next, his eyes can’t leave those sadistic ones a very short distance over his head. Slowly absorbing his worry and making it amusement.

The strong stim is what brings the most of it, and Kyungsoo feels his brain split under a grin of pure satisfaction.

$$$

Kyungsoo learns how ecstasy tastes, how carelessness feels and how freedom smells. Everything feels different, but at the same time so familiar. And after a life of strict rules and routines, he experiences the exact opposite. And, if he is to be honest with himself, he enjoys it much more.

Life around Kai, Kim Jongin, revolves around guns, fun, money, fame and blonde hair. It’s the illegal, the adrenaline rush and the promise of something unique that binds him down and by Jongin’s side. Every single adventure, every single high and every single trigger pulled, it brings Kyungsoo closer to a criminal life he would have never guessed he would enjoy so much.

Everything seems to have changed—for the better.

“Ta-dah!” Kyungsoo pouts slightly when he’s met with a raised eyebrow. A rush of sadness flows through him at the thought of disappointing his one and only. “Don’t you like it?”

“Um, sure,” Jongin dismisses and looks down on the files on his office desk. Only to grimace when Kyungsoo leans over them and pouts some more.

“You told me you love the color red,” he mumbles and Jongin leans back in his chair, a sigh of annoyance leaving his mouth.

“So what with that?”

Kyungsoo’s eyes hold a fear of rejection. But it’s so subtle it’s easily hidden behind a layer of forced innocence. Jongin knows there’s more under the shell of a role Kyungsoo hides behind.

“Now that my hair is red, won’t you love me too?”

Jongin huffs and brings his face closer to Kyungsoo’s, fingers threading his angry red locks and a smirk forms. “Wrong shade, my dear. I love the color of blood.” His hand then grabs on Kyungsoo’s wrist, his eyes staring on the blue thin lines under pure, pale white skin.

“Fresh out of a cut vein.”

Loving Jongin took too much effort on Kyungsoo’s side, but he was willing to put in every bit of it.

He’s never asked to do impossible tasks, he’s just tagging along because it’s lonely back at home—Jongin’s apartment that had become his little haven. Looking over Jongin and his two side-kicks; Minseok and Jongdae while keeping company to Yixing. Kyungsoo has gotten accustomed to guns and shooting, and holding them. Weighting them from one hand to the other feel almost natural. His finger will always play with the trigger but never actually pulling it. Because there is no need for it. Jongin will forever keep him safe.

So he sits on the containers, watching over three grown up men acting like a bunch of children in a candy shop, picking out expensive items. The glow of the midnight moon is nice and Kyungsoo basks in it because it’s a nice summer night. The view of the sea and chill breeze coming from the ocean spreading in front of him bring a sense of freshness he loves to inhale. A flash momentarily blinds him and he looks down to find his one and only holding onto a camera. He seems to be struggling with the buttons and Kyungsoo can’t but find it so cute. One of the scariest men alive, puzzled by a piece of the latest technology.

He jumps off the container, landing perfectly on the asphalt and waltzing towards Jongin. A suggestive smile etches on his face as he approaches the only reason he lives for.

“Like what you see?” he asks and Jongin’s arm wraps around his waist, pulling him close enough for their breaths to become one.

“You look so fucking perfect…” Jongin purrs and Kyungsoo gasps because his tongue licks the side of his mouth so hungrily.

Jongin’s definition of a date has always been trespassing and wandering until police lights show up. Jongin never did romantic dinners in expensive restaurants. And although Kyungsoo’s heart in love hurt at that small truth, he was never complaining. Because everything was perfect as long as he was with Jongin.

$$$

Kyungsoo is often left with Jongdae while Jongin has to go somewhere alone. Some kind of babysitter Kyungsoo never asked for and as much as it annoys him, he finds Jongdae to be a man of honesty and intelligence.

“How long have you been working with Jongin?” Kyungsoo asks the first night he’s left with him. He can’t really bear the silence in the presence of a man he knows little about. On the other hand, Jongdae always seems content in quiet environments.

“A couple years now,” he responds softly, “Four, five? I don’t really know. Time flies fast when you live like this.”

A small smile is his response; _It sure does, doesn’t it?_

During his first year living by Jongin’s side, he witnesses how exactly everything works. Jongdae and Minseok built a much bigger kingdom for Jongin to return to after getting him out of the institute. And while everyone obeyed Jongin and his order, it was Jongdae who pulled the strings here and there, subtly guiding him to the right decisions. Everyone feared Jongin and kissed the floor he stepped on, but it was Jongdae who was doing so much behind the scenes of a self-proclaimed king. It intrigued and irritated Kyungsoo at the same time.

How could he dare try to control his one and only, and how could Jongin allow such disrespect? But also, how could Jongdae be so smart to move through the shadows and do the right things to get the result he wished for? How much manipulation and intelligence could fit in such a cunning character? Kyungsoo couldn’t but have mixed feelings every time Jongin walked out of the main room with a different idea he went in.

“How did you end up in here?”

“Not many reasons, honestly,” Jongdae shrugs his shoulders. “I suppose life happened.”

“What about Jongin?”

“You should ask him yourself. I suspect it’s the same as everyone else in here.”

Jongdae didn’t disclose what Jongin would only be willing to talk about when drunk.  In some way, Kyungsoo respected his loyalty to his leader despite Kyungsoo being part of the same gang for two years already. He was still kept on the side by both Jongdae and Minseok, sometimes treated like an outsider, even. It was only Yixing who would talk openly to him, but he would rarely have the answers to Kyungsoo’s questions because as he’d put a handful of times “I don’t want to mingle with others’ lives too much. I’ve learned the hard way”. And truthfully, despite him being quite responsive, Yixing’s life was even more of a shrouded mystery than anyone else’s.

Jongin has high alcohol tolerance. It’s both impressing and pathetic seeing him trying to get drunk on hard liquor with little to no success. Nights like these, Kyungsoo stops counting glasses and eventually bottles. Their house seems to have an endless supply of the latter anyway. It’s quite the sight, watching as Jongin relaxes on the couch, staring at the city on the other side of the wall-sized window they have in the living room. A short glass of whiskey in his hand as that is the choice of his drink tonight. Kyungsoo steps closer so quietly, Jongin barely notices him two meters away from where he’s sitting.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Kyungsoo asks as his hands slide down Jongin’s shoulders and hard biceps.

“It is,” Jongin replies and lets a soft sigh at the gentle touch. Fingers dig into his neck muscles ever so caringly and the feeling just relaxes him further.  “Shame such beauty lasts until dawn. Dawn only makes everything disappear.”

“Dawn means a new chance, another day to be alive.”

“Funny for you to say,” Jongin sips on his whiskey and lets a throaty exhale at the nasty taste running through his body. “You’re here just for convenience. Your life before was boring, wasn’t it? Tell me, Kyung-ie, isn’t life a constant replay anyways? One you can’t stop because the afterlife isn’t as kind?”

“Isn’t living less troublesome than Hell?”

Kyungsoo’s fingers pause on Jongin’s shoulders, and he thinks Jongin’s words over again and again. There’s the sign of desperation, depression, unhappiness that Kyungsoo wants to change. Make Jongin’s life worth every second of it. Because his way of thinking has always been so toxic. Yet, Kyungsoo still understood.

“Why did you choose this if you don’t like it?”

“Oh, but I _do_ like it.” Jongin huffs, his hand moving the glass in circles, making the alcohol do so as well. “It’s a vortex that pulled me in, and I enjoyed the promise of fame and money. There’s no other thing I would do in this life that would be half as enticing as this is.”

“Have you ever thought about living a normal life?”

“My dear, Kyung-ie. This _is_ normal for me.”

Kyungsoo gathers pieces here and there, connecting them to make up what Jongin used to be and how he became what he is. A story unraveling a little every other night and when Kyungsoo finally holds the whole past in his very hands, he’s not sure if he did the right choice. The burden of a painful past pushes on his shoulders and Kyungsoo isn’t sure whether he’s thankful he finally knows why Jongin hides behind the shell of _Kai_ , or regretful because not knowing was much easier.

“Life is never fair.”

“She never really cared about me after they divorced.”

“I had to make money when she wasn’t willing to.”

“School was stupid anyways.”

“I had to clean the pool of blood after them to not be shot dead too.”

“They were fun. They showed me how to handle guns.”

“Chanyeol didn’t like my presence at all.”

“Killing is not as scary after you’ve shot the first person dead.”

The more Kyungsoo listens to Jongin’s monologues every so often, the more he builds a past of tears, sweat and blood. So much hurt gathered in one soul and enough to build a cold-hearted man whose sole purpose in this lifetime is to gather as much money as he can. It’s the story of how a person turned into a monster, fated to live by itself like the scum it is.

But Kyungsoo is sure he can harness that beast before it is too late. And maybe bring the child that didn’t learn love out of its guts, before it is entirely consumed.

$$$

One of Jongin’s obsessions was money. He loved the dollar bills more than anyone on the planet. He liked to check his balance often, open his safes and stare at his golden bars. Write a check to get what he wanted—most accepted cash in exchange of keeping their mouth shut. But that came short to his obsession with card games.

Jongin’s, or rather _Kai’s_ name was known for his winning strikes and high bets more than his gun skills. It was routine for him to slip into card havens and play till dawn burned the first tree. And he would always come out of there as a winner, whether by actually winning the games, or stealing them off the rest players. He was amused how people would still be willing to play against him, when he got what he wanted, playing fair or not.

Some nights Kyungsoo would hear the door open and close and a bag hit the floor with a thud, loud enough for him to wake up. Then the sounds of Jongin’s heavy footsteps across the wooden floor, creaking until he reached the bedroom’s door. There’d always be a short pause as he stood still. Kyungsoo never knew what he did, he was busy acting asleep. A couple minutes of soft breathing and Kyungsoo would feel a hand cup his shoulder. After Jongin had changed clothes, after he’d rinsed his hands off blood and murder, and sat on the bed. His touch always so gentle as he made himself comfortable and Kyungsoo would stir and turn just to look at him under heavy eyelids and fake grogginess.

“Jongin…” he’d purr and Jongin would smile a very natural, loving smile that sent Kyungsoo over the edge. It was during those times Kyungsoo realized he’d found home. Morning would come, and Jongin would act distant as always to his advances. No matter how much Kyungsoo tried, he’d never be able to wake up to a man who would be hugging him and saying “I love you”.

It was always Kai he would wake up to, a man who was ready to stand against the whole world as soon as he opened his eyes. Ready to fight in a war he had no horse in, just for the fun of it. A self-destructive man who pushed everyone to the side because the days he lived had more adventure and adrenaline the average person could handle. But shall the night fall again, and Kyungsoo was asleep, that pained man would turn into Jongin, the person Kyungsoo initially fell in love with.

The fragile, caring, loving Jongin. His one and only, the head of his new family.

His King.


	3. Error Eraser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> may contain typos as it's not been properly proof-read

Jongdae pushes the doors open, the heavy wood crying over the force, and the male stops on his tracks when a gun is pointed at him. On the other end of the weapon is Jongin with hooded and tired eyes, face expressionless as he sits in a throne of pillows and empty bottles of alcohol. Somewhere farther packs of money are scattered, some broken picture frames and a couple gun magazines. Jongin snarls at him, and Jongdae gulps down his fear.

“Kim,” he starts when Jongin barks a ‘what?’ at him. “Chanyeol sent a message for you.” With the disappearance of Jongin’s sanity, and the appearance of the broken Kai, Jongdae has returned to addressing him by his surname. Admittedly, he’s scared of Jongin’s reaction if he doesn’t, at this point. He’s out of his mind and Jongdae would prefer to stay alive.

Jongin, however, only lets his hand fall to his side, the gun threatening to slip from his grip. A smile takes over his face, his eyes glaring somewhere at the carpet-covered floor. They are sluggish movements that make Jongdae feel both pity and worry.

“So what does he want? Money? Weapons? Or is it,” Jongin’s dark eyes fall on Jongdae’s form, intoxicated, drunk on both alcohol and pain. “Territory? Tell him he can have none of it!”

“But Kyungsoo, sir…”

“I don’t care about that whore!” Jongin barks almost immediately and Jongdae steps back. Jongin stands up from his handmade throne, throwing the gun across the room. Jongdae watches as it falls on the floor after leaving a small dent in the wall, and just when it meets with the floor, he feels hands grab onto his shoulders. The nails dig into his skin through the cloth of his jacket and Jongin leans close to his face. That’s when his eyes look the most dangerous, the most hurt, mirroring his suffering insides.

“I have no reason to go after him after everything he’s done.”

“What has he done, Jongin?” the sound of his name shakes Jongin slightly sober. It almost feels unfamiliar, forgotten. “He’s always accepted you for who you are, with all the crazy shit you do, yet you let him at Chanyeol’s mercy when you know the man is desperate enough to hurt him, or _worse_.”

Jongin then delivers a sharp backslap, forcing Jongdae’s face close to him again with a strong hold on his jaw. “What side are you on, _Chennie_?” When Jongdae’s gaze falls down, Jongin pats his shoulder.

“Prepare the men, Jongdae. I want everything ready for an attack.” As Jongin steps away, back towards his throne, his eyes find a picture frame with a photograph of Kyungsoo sitting on a container back when Jongin liked to attack cargo ships for loot. He looks so angelic, so dream-like with the street lights hitting his back and showing a supernatural, innocent glow around his godforsaken body. His hair a wild red, dyed because Jongin has told him he liked the color and that it would match his then blond. So Kyungsoo sported scarlet hair for him. Back then Kyungsoo was less crazy, less corrupted. Just two years by Jongin’s side, yet he still clung to his humanity. Little by little, though, Jongin munched on it, tore it apart, let it loose.

The white canvas he’d seen years ago in that institute was not exactly pure. It had always held an insanity. Jongin didn’t need to poison him, he just helped it come out.

And taught Kyungsoo to embrace it.

And maybe that was what made him so valuable, so _special_. After so many differences Jongin thought they had, they were more alike and it fascinated him more than anything else in this world.

 Jongin kicks the frame, a frown over his eyebrows. “Tell Chanyeol to meet us at the cargo ship warehouses. And to bring Kyungsoo.”

It’s been so many years, so if Chanyeol wants to hurt him, Jongin will let him do so. But only if he makes sure Kyungsoo is safe beforehand.

$$$

The man Jongin finds in the mirror is the same monster that’d been put to sleep years ago. He’s a mean, sadistic bastard. One that Jongin finds he’s actually kind of missed. His eyes are hungry with revenge, his hands itching for death and his heart cold as a frozen lake during ice age. There’s something in that fucker’s stare that makes everyone cower, step aside and not voice anything in protest. He’s the epitome of pain and hurt and sadistic tendencies whose actions brought silence upon witnesses. A death dealer in skin and bones, glares and snarls and amused smirks.

The same man who Jongin has learned to suppress because he was one warning signs were made for. Because he was dangerous to everyone and himself.

But he welcomed him now with open arms, because after everything, he needed that bastard more than he despised him.

The black clothing is complemented with the black bullet-proof vest and Jongin, for once in a long while, doesn’t miss his suits. He expertly loads his guns, locks the safety and holsters them on either of his sides. He hides a knife in his boot and glances at himself in the mirror again. A demon in flesh.

He steps out of the room and into the lobby, finding men walking about. They are all dressed in vests, holding onto weapons and whatnot. He’s almost proud of his men and their loyalty for this battle is not theirs. Jongin, of course, is not an idiot—he knows they are not doing it out of love, going out of their way and going against a strong mafia clan. However, orders are and forever will be orders, and since they have signed their loyalty on Jongin’s hands, they might as well sign their souls to his words.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jongdae approaching. He’s also clad in black, vest and guns. His eyes, however, look somewhat worried but Jongin’s not going to be there to comfort him. It’s something he’s been putting off for over two weeks already. And since Jongdae was the one to kick sense into him, he has to suffer with his worry on his own. Jongin will not be there for that.

“Everything’s getting ready. At this pace we’ll be leaving in half hour. Chanyeol should be on his way now already,” Jongdae says surprisingly calmly as he looks out of the window. They’d agreed to meet at the cargo ships once the sun fell. The first  star was already disappearing in the sky for the night to come. And what a bloody night will it be.

“Knowing Chanyeol, he’ll be either trying an ambush, or arrive later than told.” Jongin’s voice is steady, deep. His glare is directed at thin air, though.

“That can work on our side if we sneak in. We’ll have to cover more distance on foot to do so, but it’s doable.”

“And it should. There’s no option here for us to fail. I’m not losing many men just because Chanyeol wants to play. If he wants to actually kill me, he should go for me.” Jongin makes a pause, huffing at his own foolishness. “But that guy will not even talk to me alone. He’s too stuck up with his protection all the time.”

“I have a bad feeling about this either way.” Jongin does not reply, he only silently agrees. It feels out of character for Chanyeol to accept this request when he’s tried asking for an exchange for Kyungsoo. But the catch was for Jongin to—read in Chanyeol’s own words—“quit his little cult and leave it to people who know what’s up”. And, as much as Jongin wanted Kyungsoo back, he was not going to erase everything he’s done, throw away everything he’s built the past seven years. He worked hard on it, and if Chanyeol wants him to quit it, then he’ll have to kill him.

Because willingly, Jongin is not going anywhere.

“The vans are ready, sir,” Minseok shows up with an expressionless face. He’s anxious, Jongin knows him well enough. He’s always been anxious during their escapades, and considering it’s Chanyeol who they are going to, it’s no surprise. “We can leave.”

A heavy silence fell over the trio. They don’t know what to say now that time has come. They don’t know if where they are going they will survive. If they will come back. It’s a mystery neither Jongdae nor Minseok is very fond of. Jongin, however, has worn his confidence along with his vest that afternoon. He’s sure that whatever happens, he’s not coming back here without Kyungsoo.

He’ll bring him home, whatever that might take.

“Hot potato!”

Jongin grabs on the riffle by reflex and he looks up to find a grinning Yixing- the one who also threw it. Jongdae and Minseok look much more surprised than Jongin, who plainly smirks back at his old friend.

“Will you be standing there or will we go and take back what’s ours?”

“Been a while since you saw your love interest, Joonmyun-ie?” Jongin coos and expertly avoids Yixing’s slap.

“You know I hate that sadistic prick.”

“Maybe that’s what you tell yourself to feel better,” Jongin calls jokingly and as he walks ahead, he doesn’t notice the wince on Yixing’s face and the small drag in his pace. A bitter taste on his tongue. The story rolling behind Yixing’s eyelids is put to a pause though, because this is not the place, and surely not the time.

The four of them jump in a van after Jongin has ordered the men to get ready, and he sits next to Yixing, who as always is behind the wheel. Jongin’s eyes fall on the riffle in his hands, all sorts of thoughts racing through his mind. How many souls do his hands hold? How many liters of blood? How many poor families is he meant to hurt still in this life?

And how many more will he hurt after tonight?

$$$

The cold wind cuts through Jongin’s skin the moment he steps out of the van. The closer they got to the shore, the stronger the wind hit the vehicle, and now Jongin can hear the water rush against the cement of the port a long distance ahead. It’s a wild night, that much he can see. The wind is strong, the waves are angry, the temperature so low he can feel his skin tighten even under all the clothes he’s wearing. A month like November is not forgiving.

Jongin’s ears pick up the sounds of guns holstered and readied for a fight he’s determined to win. Because he knows there’s no point in leaving this place without his trophy. Everything would be wasted, then.

“We can spread and go ahead. We can send groups to this and that direction and we’ll go along the fence.” Jongdae says that, and some more, pointing to different directions as he thinks aloud the safest route, all while guessing Chanyeol’s position on the other end of the port. Jongin pays little attention to him, though. He is too focused on his anger and itch for revenge. Jongdae has never been wrong in his plans anyways.

Eventually Jongdae sends Minseok away with a group of men to wiggle through the containers nearest to the coastline. Some other men go around the back with Yixing as a lead, some others through the middle narrow ways; the risky route.  It’s when everyone disappears that Jongin realizes it’s time to act. He grabs onto his gun, and leads the way ahead. He clicks the safety off and stretches his ears, trying to hear anything that could give away Chanyeol’s position. Frankly, if Jongin was given the choice to kill him tonight, Jongin would do it in a heart-beat. As much as he enjoyed the competition and the fun and messing with the mafia leader, having something taken from him was not something he took lightly.

The cement beneath his shoes feels a bit slippery—most likely from the sea salt. The place is almost completely dark with a tall street lamp placed here and there. The metal fence sings along the wind as it’s forced from side to side and the air tastes strange. Jongin, Jongdae and the rest men walk silently further in the maze, having their guns at ready. Once he reaches a corner, he motions for everyone to spread ahead and turns to Jongdae.

“What’s your hypothesis?”

Jongdae grimaces a bit because apparently Jongin wasn’t listening when he was detailing out the plan as soon as they arrived. “He should be in the storage houses up ahead but I have no way to be entirely sure. He might have set up ambushes through the maze. If anyone’s first to go, it’ll be the group in the middle.” As Jongdae whispers this, a bullet cuts through the air and both of them stick back against the shadow of the container. But the bullet wasn’t towards them, but came from somewhere in the middle of the maze.

The watch around his wrist comes to life, blinking red and Jongin presses a button and brings it to his ear. “They are up ahead in a clearing before the storage houses. They shot from the roofs so stay covered. They must have seen the other group.” Minseok’s voice is hushed and Jongin guesses they must have taken a fast route to the back already. Based on his details, he must be close enough to see Chanyeol’s men.

“Take the snipers out first. We’ll go around,” Jongin whispers back and with a look he exchanges with Jongdae, they move around the containers again. They make sure to stay in the darkness and Jongin glances at the rooftops up ahead once he has the chance. He can’t see much from where he stands now but he can see the barrel of a gun protruding and shining under the moonlight.

Before another minute passes, a gunshot echoes and same person falls off the roof. His men rise up at the rooftops and a bloodbath starts. Jongin orders all teams for attack and he and Jongdae slip around the other side through a back and forth of flying bullets. If Chanyeol is in here, he should be pretty hidden. Either way, Jongin wants his head on a silver platter. He shoots a man and gunshots echo some more as he slides behind a container. Light barely touches the tips of his boots but he has a clear view. Men of both sides are ordered to their deaths and Jongin helps by shooting a few before he gets seen and has to lean back into the container.

“Fuck!” comes Yixing’s muffled curse but before Jongin can ask, the other elaborates. “Police”

“Proceed to the main storage house.” Jongin glances at Jongdae; “Go find Kyungsoo and escape. Chanyeol’s got the police involved.” Without a second to waste, Jongdae runs through the shadows and disappears into the nearest storage room. Jongin just heads for the main as the telltale of police cars’ tires screech against the grovel on the other side of the tall fence.

A man pops out of the door and Jongin barely misses a bullet before he shoots the guy right in his chest. He sighs out in relief and pushes onward. Glancing inside, he sees two other men walking towards the exit so he leans behind the door. Once they are close enough, Jongin shoots the first and catches the other man by a headlock. He snaps his neck and throws the body out of the way before trying his way in again.

The inside of the storage room is rather quiet and Jongin slides from shadow to shadow until he ends up leaning his back against an old parked car. He tries to hear any sound besides the shooting guns outside, but the whole warehouse is silent. Until he hears a footstep and he perks his head just to check the sound and point his gun into the shadows. Chanyeol’s bound to be somewhere in here.

Someone falls against Jongin and his gun is knocked out of his hand and he is pushed onto the car’s side. A fast glance over his shoulder confirms it being a policeman in full bullet-proof uniform and Jongin tries to wrestle his way out. The man, however, grabs on his hand and pulls it behind his back to the point he feels it grind in it’s socket, and he winces.

“Stop fighting back and you won’t be hurt.”

Jongin growls in anger and doesn’t give in, but only until his arm is moved some more and his shoulder feels sore. So, he freezes and glares over his shoulder, meeting the barrel of the officer’s gun right at against his temple.

“Stay still,” the man yells through the mask and Jongin sees the finger apply the slightest pressure against the trigger.

Jongin attempts for a kick, then and a gunshot echoes above him. His breath hitches and his eyes close for a minute. Numerous thoughts rush through his mind but the lack of pain confuses him. Dead weight falls onto his back and he quickly turns around, grabbing the dead man’s body to shield himself of other gunshots. A little further stands Yixing with full police uniform on and the gun smoking hot. The smirks on their faces tell of a story that’s not yet finished. And then Yixing crashes against the car, shooting at all of Chanyeol’s men and policemen alike.

Jongin receives a gun from him and he checks the magazine. “Thanks,” he breathes out, adrenaline pumping through his veins. For a second there, he thought he’d die. But what surprised him more was the fact that the ending felt soothing and warm, as if it’d put all this craziness to a stop. As if he was waiting for that same insanity to disappear and his soul to rest in peace. As if he was ready for it.

Admittedly, he wasn’t. Because the image of Kyungsoo popped from the very back of his mind to remind him why taking that bullet like a coward would be a very, very poor decision of his.

Gunshots cease suddenly and both of them exchange a look. “Surrender yourself, Kai,” Chanyeol’s deep voice booms and Jongin grimaces in annoyance. “Surrender yourself to the police and Kyungsoo will not be harmed.”

Yixing glances at the leader by his side. He can see the momentum of racing thoughts and the blinking of confused eyes. The indecision is there and frankly, Yixing can’t blame him. It’s all a familiar feeling for him and he can’t force himself to grab on Jongin’s arm when the man stands up. He can’t do anything as he watches the man people feared so much and kissed the ground he stepped on raising his arms over his head. The gun slips from Jongin’s hand and falls on the ground. Carelessly. In defeat.

“Is that the deal you want, Chanyeol?” Jongin yells back and both enemy teams keep their breaths and weapons under check. The time feels like it has stopped for everyone except the ever confident Jongin. One step after the other and he slowly makes his way towards the back of the storage house, looking up on the floor above. The moonlight reaches the ends and he can see the form of the tall Chanyeol, standing proud between armored men. He is leaning on the railings, a smirk on his face and eyes dark pools of amusement.

“Yes. I will let him walk out of here in one piece. Him and your little… _friends_.” Chanyeol’s voice is of mock and Jongin bites back his sharp tongue. “No one will get hurt. You have my word.”

Jongin grits his teeth and glances over his shoulder towards the car Yixing is peaking out from. For the first time after a long while, Yixing’s face is not emotionless and Jongin sees hints of worry and breaking confidence. After so many years, is this how their leader’s legacy dies out? What a story…

“Tick tock, Kai.”

Jongin brings his arms in front of him, wrists put together. “Call. But a deal is a deal.”

“No!” the scream that echoes triggers chills down his spine and before he can look at its source, he’s knocked on the ground with a harsh kick to the back of his knees. He barely manages to protect his face from colliding with the floor as his arms are pulled behind his back.

“Jongin, no!” Kyungsoo’s cry comes from the back door of the building but Jongdae is there to hold him back when policemen step towards them. Jongin watches him pant and choke on his cries and scream and trying to fight Jongdae off. And he contemplates if it was a poor decision. He looks so small and weak next to Jongdae. The man he had come to love falls on his knees after the short-lived fight, head in hands and fingers pulling on his hair. Jongdae stands over him with a light touch on his shoulder, most likely to prevent him from running off, if he tried to run off again.

Jongin turns his head away from the sight, forcing the chants of his name out of his ears. Instead, he turns to glare back up at the first floor when he hears clacking of boots against metal flooring.

“A deal is a deal, Chanyeol.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re the one I’m after, not them. Or _him_.”

Handcuffs click in place and Jongin is forced on his feet, pulled away from the middle of the building. He looks behind himself, eyes locking on Jongdae’s for a mere second.

“Leave,” he barks his last order, yet it sounds un-steady even to himself.

There are policemen everywhere, pushing both parties away and Jongin keeps his head low enough for his bangs to hide his eyes. He has no dignity to face his men as he walks by Yixing and then Minseok and all the men in between who are staring at him as if he was God taken to the cross. It’s a heavy feeling, that of being responsible for numerous lives and letting them all down at the same time. It’s definitely a shameful walk.

The last glance Jongin sends Kyungsoo is one that carries a huge apology. And Kyungsoo jerks ahead to run up to him but Jongdae is fast to grab onto him. So he wails loud, screaming Jongin’s name again because he knows there are few choices of his punishment, and he’d be very glad if he was only put into jail for the rest of his life. At this point, what Kyungsoo was scared of was a death sentence.

“Jongin!” Kyungsoo screams then, but Jongin doesn’t turn his way again as he’s blindfolded and pushed in the back of a van. Three armed men enter with him and two others shut the doors closed, cutting the rope of his attachment to Kyungsoo. It’s then that the show is finished and Jongdae pulls on his arm, leading him along and Kyungsoo sheds more tears as he sees Yixing and Minseok standing off to the side in the dark, disbelief written across Minseok’s face whilst Yixing’s is stoic. They are in no place to think of him and Kyungsoo’s left to be pulled away from the warehouse and into a world of despair. Because there’s no Jongin and who knew when Kyungsoo would be able to see him again.

And if.

$$$

The sound of a metal door jerks Jongin awake and he grumbles as he turns his head on the metal table to stare at the only exit. A tall man walks up to him, holding on a folder and a pen. The scene reminds him of the institute and Jongin almost smiles at that thought.

“Had a nap?” the policeman asks in mock politeness as he sits across from him. The man makes sure the chair scratches the floor hard enough to wake Jongin up completely. Or annoy him any further. “Do you feel like talking now?”

Jongin remembers the man from the day of his arrest back at the port—and after that, he’s been paying daily visits. He’s a tall, lean yet muscular man. His eyes look sharp and un-forgiving, matching well with his tongue at both. His blond hair is quite long at the top, shaved short at the back—a stylish policeman, if Jongin had to say. He talks a lot, though, and his voice can become as high and nerve-wrecking as the sound of the chair he slid against the tiles. He looks foreign but Jongin never bothered to wonder about ethnicity, admittedly. He only knows the name the nametag reads is “Huang Zitao”.

Jongin turns his head around again at the question and as always, simple things like these, infuriate Zitao all too easily. So he hits a fist against the metal and Jongin groans as he looks up.

“You’re listening. Good.” He places the folder on the table, opening it and pointing on the first picture that’s on top. “This is the man you were arrested last time and sent to the institute for. This one,” he points another, “is a dead man found not a week after you were outed from it. Do you recognize him?”

Jongin stares blankly at the photograph—a man is half naked on red carpet, floating in his own pool of blood, deep holes all over his torso. Yes, Jongin remembers him. He was the snitch who gave his whereabouts to the police. No wonder his corpse was found by them the same night.

“Kim?”

Jongin winces. “I thought I burned all records when I escaped.”

“Some things cannot be erased, Kim. Like your name being Kim Jongin, going by the nickname of Kai and messing around in card game havens. Kim Jongin, the only child of Marilyn and Joshua Kim, a lower class couple that split shortly after having you. The first fingerprints collected of an underage killer in training who would then turn into a full-time assassin. Burning the institute’s records is not enough.” Zitao sends him a look of satisfaction, a sadistic smirk on his thin lips. “Words get out. Suck it up, mister Bad-guy.”

Jongin huffs, glancing around the empty room in irritation. He’s spent a week in this place already with minimal water intake, uncomfortable sleep and no food. To say they are not treating him as royalty would be as farfetched as them treating him as a human. He’s spent seven days at least fighting with the handcuffs to undo and pull up his pants whenever he needed to piss. If this is what jail is like, then he’ll gladly walk back into the asylum. At least there, he had Kyungsoo.

“Since you don’t do dead men, let’s talk about alive, okay? See where that gets us,” Zitao pulls another photograph from between the numerous files and taps at it until Jongin pays attention to him. “This one. What’s his name?”

Jongin recognizes the man far too easily—it’s Jongdae in the middle of the day, sunglasses and cap, walking fast through the crowds. The photograph seems to be from a man who spied on him and Jongin quickly realizes that this should not be the only one taken that day. “Can’t you CIA that on your computer? You can’t stand me anyways, so go do your job and leave me alone.” Jongin leans back against the chair. His shoulders feel sore and he can’t feel his arms from below his elbows as well anymore.

“Oh, darling, I _am_ doing my job and you _will_ talk, whether you want it or not,” Zitao glares and then brings another photograph—one of Yixing, rushed and blurry as well. “Talk.”

“Make me,” Jongin smirks at the red color Zitao’s head slowly changes to.

The door is pushed open and another tall man, even taller than Zitao, walks in with confident strides. Glasses sit at the top of his bridge, dark eyes staring hard through them first at Zitao and then at Jongin. He’s the chief, at least that’s what Jongin assumed first if the amount of badges pinned on his uniform are something to go by. He’s a man of few words, but his voice is quite deep—both traits that make Jongin hate him due to his resemblance with Chanyeol.

“Huang, don’t waste my time here,” Yifan speaks and Zitao quickly gathers the files from around the table.

“Yes, chief.”

Then, his eyes fall on Jongin who only glares up at him. “Aren’t you done playing mute, yet? You are aware that we can be harsher, right?”

Jongin smirks, a sparkle flashing his eyes. “You can’t afford to kill me”

“No one said anything about killing,” Yifan replies calmly as he pulls a second chair and sits by Zitao. “We need you alive and breathing for you to be sentenced to life and rot. Until then, I can hand you back in whichever state I wish and I assure you there are multiple stages before dead.”

Jongin glares at the man as he gets ahold of the folder and brings the first photograph Zitao showed him. “Now tell me about this man before I have to force it out of you.”

Jongin soon figures out that Yifan doesn’t appreciate games. And while he is handled in court with bruises and cuts and malnourished, he is quite satisfied by the annoyed glances sent his way from the police chief. And Jongin enjoys it way too much because the man, as he’d come to know, doesn’t take defeat easily. Yet, there Jongin stands, proud as ever and keeping his mouth shut.

Last thing he would ever do on this Earth would be to snitch on men he considered his family. A weird, fucked up family, but a family still.

He holds his head high even when he is sentenced to life and is dragged past everyone. A lone smirk hangs on his face because no matter what, he knows Jongdae, Yixing and Minseok will come back for him. And Kyungsoo…

Kyungsoo will be waiting for him on the other side of the thick walls.


End file.
